Christmas Is Over and Done

Galatians 4:4-7 So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God our Rock and our Redeemer. Amen.

Christmas is over and done.

Trees are already down, pulled out to the side of the road, done shedding needles in the carpet, except for that pile that’s worked its way under the doormat.

The egg nog is almost gone, unless you’ve saved some for tomorrow night.

Wrapping paper – it’s out in the trash.

New toys – some are already broken.

New books – my favorite present – already started and one’s already been read and moved to the pile to go to the library.

The Holiday stream on my internet radio station is still going strong, but yesterday for a while, it looked like we were working our way through a playlist of Latvian carols, or at least the less familiar… really… isn’t it time to let the music go, and put “Jesus Christ the Apple Tree” away until next year? Time to go back to the Peer Gynt Suite and other non-holiday pieces!

Christmas is over and done.

The meals have been served, eaten, cleaned up after… we’ve demolished the remains of the Christmas turkey, or ham, or whatever. The pot pies are gone, even the turkey soup has dried up. And now the Christmas cookies are about gone.

Christmas is over and done.

But you know what? Winter is still here. No I don’t mean that cold stuff outside the door. Not that kind of winter… but the winter of a soul that cannot see spring, that is blind to good, that thinks that all the world is broken and worthless.

And because we live in a world where there’s always some winter… I think we need to hold on to Christmas a little longer. Not the cookies or presents, not the music or the parties, but Christmas, that spirit of love and joy and caring.

It’s winter at the Thursday Café – the one that’s at All Saints Church in Worcester, serving lunch and offering a warm, indoor place to schmooze for the homeless of Worcester. It’s always winter when there are homeless people. Poverty, soul-destroying, heart-aching, hunger-filled poverty is one of the surest signs of the kind of winter I’m talking about.

It’s winter for those Puerto Ricans who’ve fled their destroyed Island for the likes of Worcester and New Bedford. I love both places, but how bad does Puerto Rico have to be that New Bedford is an improvement? There are 351 municipalities in Massachusetts. New Bedford is number 346 in per capita income and almost a quarter of the population lives below the poverty level. And it’s cold in New Bedford, right around 18 today. It’s in the 80s in Puerto Rico.

But it’s always winter when you’re driven out of your home – whether because of storm damage, or because there’s a war going on outside your door, or because the drug lords of Central America want your kid to work for them. That’s the winter of fear, and we need to keep Christmas to push that fear away.

And it’s winter for those who live alone, for those who had no celebration this year because there’s no one to celebrate with. No presents, no dinner, no family games, just another day, another tv dinner. That’s the winter of loneliness.

So, there’s still winter, and wherever there’s winter, there’s a need for Christmas. Because Christmas isn’t really about the tree or the decorations, it’s about changing the world.

It’s about pushing back the cold of homelessness, the chill of loneliness. It’s about the warmth of solidarity with those who are oppressed by war or hatred or discrimination.

The reading from Galatians puts it another way. It’s a short and sweet Christmas narrative – in the fullness of time, God sent his Son… and because that Son came, we have been permanently, lovingly adopted into the family of God.

Because of Christmas, we have a name; we are Christians.

Because of Christmas, we have a purpose; we are Christians.

And Christians are, that change might happen.

The work of Christians, our work, is to bring spring to be where there was nothing but winter. We don’t have to stand at the side of the snow bank, waiting for someone to come and clear things away; we are God’s beloved children, and together we have what it takes to make a difference, to bring warmth and love and light to those in need, indeed to bring it to our own lives. Because we are beloved children of God, we too deserve warmth and light and love.

Yes, this is the last Sunday in the Christmas season. And if your tree isn’t down yet, I bet it will be by next Sunday. You’re probably not listening to Christmas music any more, but I hope Christmas is still there in your heart. And let’s keep bringing tidings of comfort and joy to all the world, at all times and in all places.

For whoever we are and wherever we go, we are God’s beloved children. We have a name, we have work to do, bringing Christmas to our world.

Amen.

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Author: tobelieveistocare

I am an interim pastor in the United Church of Christ, having served as a settled pastor for over thirty years. I play classical mandolin and share my home with a cavalier king charles spaniel
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